Well, I guess I could start with the most important day of my life, birth. Yep, a lovely Monday afternoon at 4:30, I was born. I honestly can’t give you much on this topic, because even though I was present, I don’t remember anything. My parents gave me the name Remi, and that’s the name I’ve kept and used until today. I guess I grew up in a typical household, two parents, and no siblings. I remember having loads of toys as a kid, and the aspect of no sharing was just brilliant at the time.
By age three, my Dad had begun to teach me how to ski. I guess there’s this rule, that as soon as a kid can walk up the stairs without using the handrail, then they’re ready to ski. I never quite understood the entire aspect of sliding down a hill with two stick strapped to my legs, but we were inside nearly 95% of the time. When ski season ended, my parents were enthusiastic about putting me in a sport. I honestly had no clue what was going on, but once I was enrolled in soccer, I just went with it. I don’t remember much about this as a child, but I could imagine the nightmarish scene of children with extremely short attention span’s running around ‘kicking’ a ball that was bigger than their head. But they put up with it and continuously brought me to practices and events. I guess I should really thank them for that, because without that support, I probably would have lost interest earlier and my entire character would be different.
When I was four, I was placed in this pre-school. I remember completely loving the social interaction, all of the other kids running around with toy’s I had never seen before. I could imagine the face of my mom as she watched me plummet into the pool of germs every single day. I can almost bet you a 20, that every day, once I got home, she would scrub me until I was red. By the age of five, I started kindergarten. I remember the first person I met was named Anna; her mother did a half day day-care in the building upstairs. I remember thinking of those stairs as a rite of passage, because that was where the ‘big kids’ went. I didn’t exactly have a concept of the world at the time. Anna was a good friend throughout most of the year, she taught me about the squares on the carpets, and that each color represented something. Red-Lava, Blue-Water, Yellow-Sun, Purple-Purple Goo (Land before Time), and Green-Grass (I would always sit on the grass with her). In the middle of that year, a new girl came, her name was also Anna, and she was from Texas. Both of the Anna’s clicked almost immediately, I could recall being extremely jealous, because I thought my friend was being stolen from me. I guess I hadn’t quite grasped the aspect of sharing.
During this time, I also started Tae Kwon Do. I don’t remember how I got into the classes, but my mom always told me that I saw a picture of a kid doing a kick in the air on a catalog and I thought it was really cool. I don’t exactly remember much about my Elementary school days, I know I met some really cool people throughout those years. I remember the first time I got called down to the principal’s office, because I stood up for someone, and this entire war idea erupted from the topic. I will always be thankful that Daniel was there to give me a hug at the end of it all, because I was paralyzed.
At a young age, I figured out that I wasn’t technically one to ‘fit’ in with everyone. I tried my best, but with a class of only 30, it was hard to find people I could really click with. I’ve never had trouble getting along with people before, I could have a laugh with whomever at any time, but that true friendship dependency wasn’t something I really got a grasp of. My mom always tells me I ran away from the school, because I was running away from my problems, but in reality, I would have been just fine continuing on with my current classmates. I suppose my brain is just like that, I always want to view things on a bigger level. My years through middle school were never hard. I was in the GT program, so that excluded my classes again, and my friendships were limited to people I never really clicked with. Early in sixth grade, I was dumped by a group of girls that I thought were friends. My personality was never really the same after that. I tried hard to be accepted, and I think that’s the first time I started to really lose myself in the madness. I hung out with people that needed help, because it made me feel wanted, and accepted when I was looked for, for guidance.
My mom started working again at the beginning of seventh grade. I always thought that was a normal, and completely fine solution, in fact, I accepted the independence with open arms. Looking back, her working wasn’t a bad thing, it was just bad-timing. She sort of left me to my own devices at the time I was not the best thing, considering I still had no clue who I really was. I find it funny looking back at it all, because I would help others with their character, when mine was as thin as cardboard. Towards the end of 8th grade, I plain out quit Tae Kwon Do, my Mom thinks it was because I didn’t have time. She would always nag me about being a quitter for the first 6 months after I’d quit, I don’t think she knew how guilty that made me feel. I never told anybody the real reason why I didn’t go back to that studio that held a second family for me, but the real reason, was because everyone made fun about the idea that I did something unusual. I was looked at like I didn’t belong, and I’ve always hated that feeling, so quitting seemed liable. My view for high school was similar to my aspects of Junior High. I thought it’d be bigger, better, and most importantly, a new start. I was so stupid to think that a new start could come from people that I’d known for 3 years. Everybody knew who I was, and they wouldn’t accept change. But I guess that’s how this community works. Anything that’s different or new in most people’s eyes isn’t accepted. You can tell by the looks people give others at lunch, or during class. All it is, is judgmental stares.
I really took a turn downhill when I was denied the chance to ‘change’ and was shut down, and many people looked at me differently. I would always be remembered for that weird kid in middle school who did nothing but try and fit in. I fell into some depression after that, I stopped caring. My grades fell, and my mind had other things occupying it. I always ate alone at lunch, and although kids were kind, my mind became the judgmental one, and before I knew it, my heart had iced over. I built these walls up and gave people shy smiles as I passed, and I never really engaged in a conversation. I spent the entire winter of that year trying to emulate people I saw, because I knew they had friends. I guess it never really clicked that it didn’t matter how much you dressed like them, or looked like them, it had to be your personality that stood out. My walls stood tall and painted blue, and no one even took the effort to try and break them down.
I was bullied, constantly. I was the girl who was too scared to speak her mind, who had braces and acne. The girl who played sports and wasn’t the absolute best, but was told that by others constantly, and it took a toll. I had people talk about me behind my back, shove me a bit as I walked down the hallway, by the end of the day, my backpack was almost always turtled, my books on the floor, and my pencils snapped in half. I really began that process of disliking myself, I felt as though being seen in public was a really bad thing, I refused to not wear makeup and I wore really baggy clothing. I wanted to be invisible, and I tried to make it happen. I never felt good about myself, and my confidence was shattered even more. I just wanted to leave, to go away, I thought dying would bring me peace, but I was too much of a coward to do that even. I was tired of being myself. I still to this day have second thoughts about leaving the house, or going somewhere in my hometown, but I know better. I wish I was as strong as I am now.
I remember in February, I was watching SNL, and this band began playing on the screen. I skipped their first song, because I wasn’t interested, but about ten minutes later, they performed again. I just decided to watch because I was bored. I found myself liking the song a lot, and I stared at the brown haired boy because I thought it was strange he looked like Justin Bieber. Little did I know, that those boys, would be the reason I’m still alive today. I remember returning to school and asking Dylan about them, because I heard her mention them a few times before. She went into this entire rant about how amazing they were and completely fangirling over them for the entire period. Over the next week, I downloaded 3 of their songs. I found myself listening to them over and over again. I suppose I liked them, because they showed me genuine happiness, and every time I listen to them sing, it reminds me that there isn’t all bad in the world. That I have a shot at being something, or doing something, even when all the odds are against me. Those boys showed me how to live life, and how to have fun with the stupidest of things. And I can honestly say they are my first love, and I will always love them, no matter how many times you mess up their name. They will always be the reason I wake up in the morning, the reason that you see my smile a bit more often. They are the boys that made me feel beautiful, and calmed me down when I was angry, they are One Direction, and they’ve changed my life.
The summer after was spent trying to thaw out and break down some of my walls. I remember going to Regis, and loving it, because I could release those weights on my shoulders for a while. For those few days, I got to see the real me come out for a while. On my second day, I met Lara, and we clicked immediately. I can’t explain how grateful I am that she took the time to get to know me, and kick in all of my walls. I think we both let it happen, because we both needed a friend. And Lara is my best friend, she always will be. I love that whenever I have a problem or a rant, she’ll listen, and then give me an honest answer. Even if I don’t like it at the time, I know it’s for the best.
This past semester started with me in a new light. My walls are still up in the public; my heart had thawed, because I actually had someone who would listen to my problems now, instead of creating them. I still struggle with depression, and in the past 6 months, I developed an eating disorder. I guess I just didn’t feel good enough anymore. I don’t look in the mirror and see anything special; I see all the flaws I have. I see the negatives of life. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to move on from it. I found myself comparing myself to other people, and I never wanted to be one of those damaged, and broken people, but I guess I’ve become one, and I don’t know how to stop it without admitting I’m some sort of freak.
Music saved me. In January is when I began to use it as a coping mechanism. I write loads of songs now, and I listen to lots of music. I love finding the inspiration behind each word as the artist sings them, and piecing it all together to create a beautiful story. Something that no one has thought of, or the artist was hoping was concealed enough to be by past. It can move you to another world, and make you forget about your problems. It can save your life.
The past four months has been difficult. It’s almost like I’ve accepted failing as an easy solution to everything. It’s like in my head; I have this crazy notion that if I fail, then suddenly it masks the idea that I don’t have to try, because trying means expectations. I think I started my disorder again as well. I’ve only been eating about 200 calories a day. I’m sort of scared, and I’ve lost about 7 pounds. It’s not me checking the scale as constantly, but more or less just not eating. I get lots of headaches and my stomach isn’t announcing its need for food. So I just drink a lot.
I tried out for the X-Factor a couple days ago. I just smiled my way out of the door and all the way home. I broke down that night though. I think I realized exactly how much I really wanted it, and how disappointed I am in myself. I’ve realized something through all of this; I realized that I want to be a singer. I’ve taken note on how much music has truly impacted my life, and how much it has saved me from truly dreadful things. Music has inspired me, and now my dream, is not to eventually perform at the Grammy’s, but to inspire someone else with my music. I want to save someone’s life, like artists before have done for me. So yesterday I decided to produce my own album. I have 6 ½ songs already completed and next summer, when I’m finished, I’m going to drive across America and go on a radio tour. I’m going to live out my dream as best I can, and give back to the world. I think it’s time to tell my story.
My favorite quote is:
“The one who smiles the most is the one who's the most broken. The one who fights the most is the one who wants to find peace. The one who encourages others is the one who always feels useless. The one who seems insane is the one who is just following a life no one else understands, or will ever believe. Nor do they want to. Not everything is as it seems. Remember that.”
Because It really reminds me of myself. All I can say is that my fight is over, and I’m tired of it. I’ll never let anyone close, I’ll never be able to share my full story with anyone, and I’ll never be able to be quite normal again. My big dreams have become useless, and the worst part about it, is that I’m the one to blame. I don’t have any more energy to fight, and this constant battle between me, and go knows what, is weathering me down. I just don’t know what to do, but I guess the first thing would be acceptance, so, I guess I accept that my life is going nowhere, and I am an emotional mess. I’m just broken, and glue can only do so much.
But I know how strong I am. And I can only hope that you will be strong with me, and take this step with me into a great adventure.
Ask me anything